


Rattle

by Sandoz (Sandoz_Iscariot17)



Category: Psycho (1960)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Motel, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandoz_Iscariot17/pseuds/Sandoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On that dark, rainy night at the Bates Motel, Marion seduces Norman. Written for the prompt "shy" for Porn Battle VIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rattle

**Author's Note:**

> Psycho belongs to Alfred Hitchcock and Paramont/Universal, not me.

The open door is an invitation; she’s already made her decision, as she did when she packed her suitcase before driving past the bank. He hesitates ( _the pitcher of milk rattles on the tray_ ) before stepping inside.

She takes small, girlish bites of the sandwich with the entire space of the motel room between them. He’s stiff like one of the stuffed owls in his office, sweating in corduroy and stealing swift glances through the window as if waiting for the rain to return. Sometimes his mouth twitches into a smile and their eyes meet and it’s like cool water trickling down her spine.

When she finishes they both stand and she says, “Thank you, Norman.” She cups his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his ears. He’s tall and dark-haired but he isn’t Sam, and that’s all right, tonight she isn’t Marion. Lips brush ( _he says_ gee _and_ please _as he tries to reach for the doorknob_ ) and he blushes all the way down to his collarbone.

Fucking him makes her feel ten years younger—maybe it’s the way he thrusts into her like a teenager, clumsy and eager, or the candy she tastes on his breath. He won’t last long, but she loves the look in his eyes when his head hits the pillow ( _he couldn’t unhook her bra so he sat on the edge of the bed and watched her do it, and she hiked up her slip slowly, slowly, before sliding her panties down her thighs, and he hadn’t blinked once_ ) so she rises over him to control the pace. His heart beats frantically against his ribs, reminding her of a bird beating against the bars of its cage. Finally she lets him press his face against her breasts, and he takes deep, sucking breaths as his mouth finds her nipples. She almost doesn’t hear him say, “Please, can I?” and she laughs because _god, he’s asking if he can come inside her_ , and when he does he moans as if his soul is leaving his body.

Outside the rain has stopped lashing the roof, but the wind persists and rattles the ( _pitcher of milk on the tray_ ) window. The night is dense and starless; Marion can’t see a thing outside, not even her car. Nothing outside exists, not Phoenix, not Fairdale—nothing extends beyond the motel room and Norman’s breathing. His head tilts slightly in another birdlike movement. She thinks he’s listening to the wind.

Planting a kiss on his clavicle, she asks, “Do you want to shower first?” A teasing note in her voice. “It is your motel.”

He shakes his head ( _he’d been embarrassed when she saw his erection straining against his pants, had gasped "I'm sorry" when she palmed it_ ), unable to look at her. His eyes have changed; he’s calm now, still. It’s not the first time she’s left a boy tongue-tied. Maybe, just maybe, she’s made a man out of him. The thought makes her smile; it’ll be something nice to remember after dawn, after the simple breakfast of toast and milk he’ll make for her, after she returns home with her suitcase and her conscience. Her last indiscretion.

The shower curtain rustles and the faucet squeaks into action. She slides soap over her breasts; she can still feel his mouth and the puffs of breath like steam. He lingers on her. Running a hand through wet hair, she sees a dark shape through the curtain, blurred and slow. Ahh. He’s gotten bolder. Her lips part in a greeting.

A hand pulls back the curtain.


End file.
